


Strangers

by MelfinaLupin



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 09:50:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7679764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelfinaLupin/pseuds/MelfinaLupin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re safe now, Shiro,” Keith said. He purposely kept his voice low and soft, like he was trying to earn the trust of a wounded dog. “No one’s going to hurt you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strangers

Seeing Shiro in his smart green uniform with its golden stripes, medals proudly displayed on his chest, had both thrilled and scared Keith. Shiro was finally a pilot in command. It meant Shiro would eventually be in charge of a mission in space. He would leave the garrison and abandon Keith like everyone else eventually did.

Keith ignored the bad feeling gnawing in the pit on his stomach. A large group of cadets circled Shiro in the corridor, shaking his hand and preening over his accomplishment. Shiro was blushing sheepishly from all the attention. To say Shiro was popular was an understatement. He was liked because he was handsome and admired because his kindness was genuine. He was the Galaxy Garrison’s golden boy. He was source of constant inspiration to all the young cadets like ‘ _Hey, look at me! Look what you can become in five years!_ ’

Keith offered a platonic handshake and a sullen “good job” before cramming his hands in his pockets and skulking away without looking back at a speechless Shiro.

That night Keith couldn’t let him go. Minutes ticked by. Hours bled into one another. No matter how many fervent kisses were exchanged or how many times Shiro made him come, nothing could satisfy Keith’s bottomless need for Shiro. Later, when they were lying breathless and sweaty between the tangled sheets, Shiro asked him if everything was ok. He tried to play it cool but Keith knew his boyfriend was a worrier.

Keith lied before distracting Shiro with a hungry kiss. Keith didn’t like to talk about his feelings. He didn’t want to tell Shiro how much he would miss him or how much his heart was already hurting.

That was the last time they were together. The following week Shiro was picked to pilot a team of scientist to Kerberos, the farthest the Galaxy Garrison had ever gone before in a spaceship. Keith knew he should be happy for Shiro. It was a huge accomplishment for the young graduate, but the bad feeling in Keith’s stomach only grew more intense. They shared a swift, eager kiss in the empty locker room before liftoff, and then Shiro walked out of his life. Just like that. Keith was left with nothing but a yawning hole in his heart to remind him of Shiro.

When Keith heard that mission had failed, that the team was dead, he threw his guts up.

He never thought it could have been a lie. Until now. Until a year later when Shiro returned to Earth, half alive in a wrecked alien ship.

Keith still couldn't believe it. He just couldn't believe Shiro was here and alive, but not unscathed. What the hell had he been through? He looked like shit. The last 365 days hadn’t been kind to the charismatic pilot. There was a fleshy scar marring his face, jagged and thick with new tissue that hadn’t been properly cleaned, and a prosthetic right arm. He looked years older. A tuff of black hair was now stark white and deep creases lined the corner of his eyes and mouth where none had been before. Still this was Shiro. Keith drank in the familiar face with misty eyes, his heart beating in his throat, hands eager to caress the handsome face, slack from sleep.

When he saw the crash, the last thing he expected to see was Shiro. He had been angry and bitter when the garrison announcement that the mission to the distant moon had failed. It was bluntly announced over the intercoms. Three people had died, alone and cold in space, miles from home, and they were dully announcing the start of a false alarm for everyone to tune out.

_Attention! Attention! This is only a test. Three people killed. Pilot error. Mission failed. This is only a test._

It had all seemed like a bad joke and Keith was waiting for the punch line.

Shiro stirred. The sedative was wearing off. Keith cautiously kept his as he rested on his side on the too narrow couch, knees drawn up nearly to his chest. He watched and waited, his fingers fidgeting from nerves. He couldn’t stop thinking how much he wanted to hold him, to wrap his arms around that massive torso and greedily hug him to his chest.

Finally Shiro opened his eyes. It wasn’t slow and peaceful as if waking up from a Sunday nap, but violent awakening. He shot straight up with a strangled gasp. He was ready to fight, his hands raised as if to defend himself from an invisible enemy, even before his eyes were open.

Keith bolted up too, holding out his hands as if to calm a rabid animal. “Wow there, buddy,” he said gently. They had often called each other that when they were playing the role of friends at the garrison. Alone in the privacy of Shiro’s room they called each other something entirely different, but they both seemed unconcerned about their double lives.

“You’re safe now, Shiro,” Keith said. He purposely kept his voice low and soft, like he was trying to earn the trust of a wounded dog. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out. Desperation was clawing up his stomach. It hurt seeing the stalwart Shiro so frightened that he trembled. It was a mistake. Shiro jerked away as if he’d been electrocuted, glaring at him with hollow, frightened eyes that threatened to hurt Keith if he came any closer.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he repeatedly.

It was horrible being stared at by someone you loved and not seeing any sign of recognition in their eyes.

Silence settled between them, tense and uncomfortable. Sweat beaded Keith’s forehead. Slowly Shiro spoke. “I’m safe?”

A big man like Shiro shouldn’t sounds so lost.

Keith finally let out his breath and nodded. “Yeah. We busted you out of quarantine.”

Shiro glanced uneasily around the small shack as if looking for the ‘we’ Keith had mentioned.

“You don’t need to worry about them. They’re friends,” he lied. There was no need to worry Shiro about technicalities. “They’re sleeping upstairs.”

It was tense. Shiro studied him like a seasoned fighter. Eventually he concluded that since Keith was unarmed and smaller, he didn’t pose much of a threat. His defenses relaxed. His eyes got less hard.

“Don’t you remember anything, Shiro?” It was a question that had been on his mind, a question he didn’t want to ask.

“No. My head’s all fuzzy…” he murmured, cradling his head in his hands as if nursing a migraine.

Keith felt like crying. Here he was waiting to desperately kiss and hold the boyfriend he loved so much, and Shiro thought he was a complete stranger. All their time spent together was gone. Their feelings for one another didn’t matter because Shiro’s couldn’t remember a damn thing.

“Wait…Keith?” Shiro slowly raised his head. Recognition brightened his eyes. Relief softened his frown. “It’s…it’s _you_!”

It happened so fast. Keith couldn’t keep up. One minute he was talking with a stranger, and then next Takashi was back, _really back_ , smiling and cradling his face in his hands, surprised and eager at the same time like it he was a kid on Christmas morning. The right hand chilled Keith’s skin. The thick calluses on the left one bruised, but it was still Shiro.

“Y-you remember?” His voice cracked with emotion but he didn’t care. He was going to end up a sobbing mess anyway.

“Yeah, babe” Shiro breathed, their foreheads pressed together. Their lips were tantalizingly close. _Babe_. Shiro always liked to call him babe. Keith had resented it at first, but when Shiro was moaning it into his ear on night, Keith quickly warmed up to it. Now the gently-whispered word made the cartridge in his body turn to mush. “How could I ever forget you?”


End file.
